


Lay down your burdens

by TetrodotoxinB



Series: Whumptober 2020 [7]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Bleeding, Blood, Brief allusion to needles, Broken Bone, Canon Typical Violence, Carrying, Day 7, Grief, Loss of a Friend, PTSD, Sprain, Violence offscreen, We're talking about Freddie Hart, Whumptober 2020, canon typical injury, gunshot wound, just to be clear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:47:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26869900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TetrodotoxinB/pseuds/TetrodotoxinB
Summary: Danny is shot. Steve has to carry him out.
Series: Whumptober 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947493
Comments: 18
Kudos: 86
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Lay down your burdens

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CommanderBunnBunn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CommanderBunnBunn/gifts).



> Many thanks to [aravenwood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aravenwood/pseuds/aravenwood) for her extreme kindness in being willing to beta all of these whumptober fills! Especially so since she's also writing her own (amazing!) fics too! Please go check her out and give her some love!!!!

“Oh come on, Steve. Is this really necessary?” Danny grumbles as Steve hoists him over his shoulders into a fireman’s carry.

“Well, you were shot in the leg. Do you plan to walk out of here on that or do you just wanna wait here until it heals up?” Steve asks as he hefts Danny into a better position.

Danny moans as Steve jostles his leg. “Fuck.”

“Sorry, Danno. We’ll be there before you know it,” Steve says, hoping to somehow cheer his chronically grumpy partner.

“I already know it, Steve, and it already hurts,” Danny grouses as Steve sets off down the pig trail that will lead them back to the main road and eventually to Steve’s truck.

Honestly, Steve knows it too. Being shot in the leg is no walk in the park, but he’s grateful that at the very least the bullet seems to have missed any major veins and arteries. 

About a quarter mile down the trail Steve catches his foot on a rock, but regains his balance before either of them can fall.

“Is this how you carried your brothers in arms out of the line of fire, Steven? Because I am actively trying not to moan in your ears — you’re welcome for that by the way — but I am actually in a lot of pain and you nearly dropping me is not actually helping matters,” Danny complains.

Steve swallows against a swell of guilt. He didn’t carry Freddie out of the line of fire — he took the asset, got in the truck, and left. Part of Steve, the part not clouded by regret and self-loathing, knows better than that. He tried. Freddie chose to stay. But knowing the truth doesn’t make him feel it. So if he grips Danny a little tighter and steps a little harder to make sure they don’t fall, it’s the best he can do.

“Are you not going to say anything? Just going to march on in silence? Do you even hear me?” Danny snips.

Steve shrugs and adjusts Danny. “Yeah, I hear you. I’m doing my best, okay? I’m not as young as I once was and I’m not exactly giving Grace a piggy back ride. You need to relax.”

“How can I relax, Steven? Please tell me. I am slung over your shoulders like a freshly killed boar that you’ve chosen to cart back to your caveman hut. It’s uncomfortable, I hurt, and you’re bouncing me around like we’re on horseback. Do you know what would make this better?” Danny asks. He pauses and Steve sighs, knowing that Danny will continue to pester for an answer.

“No, Danny. I do not know what would make this better. Please tell me,” Steve grunts.

Danny isn’t a big guy, but he’s solid and it’s no small amount of work to carry him back to the main road, especially since Steve estimates it to be a full two miles. He’s getting winded and his legs are burning; they’re going to have to stop soon. 

“What would make this whole giant fiasco better, is if you dropped me in a nice soft bed of poison ivy so that when I’m in the hospital and covered in gauze, I’ll be that much more miserable and unable to do anything about it.”

“You’re a ray of sunshine, Danny, you know that?” Steve says. 

Steve makes it another half mile before they rest, and Danny complains about everything the whole way — the stupid green trees, the loud bugs, the birds and frogs screaming at all and sundry about how they’d like to fuck with no regard for who might be listening, the mosquitos, the smell of the ocean, sunlight and how it burns his fair skin. Steve loses track of Danny’s litany of grievances with the State of Hawai’i. 

While they’re resting, there’s a lull in the one-sided conversation, and Steve thinks that Danny might finally have run out of complaints. Instead he says, “You alright, Steve? You seem a little quiet.”

Steve takes another pull from his canteen and then passes it to Danny. “I’m fine. I’m just trying to focus on getting out of here.”

Danny frowns, and Steve knows Danny has decided to pursue this line of inquiry until one of them has died of old age. “It’s Freddie isn’t it? You’re carrying me out but not him.”

“Danny, don’t-”

“No, no, I’m not asking you to tell me anything. I’m just saying, this is a little close to home,” Danny explains. 

Steve stretches his calves to avoid cramps and nods. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

Danny nods and looks down at the dirt. “I’m sorry about what I said. I didn’t realize-”

It’s Steve’s turn to cut Danny off. “Danny, I don’t want to do this right now, okay? You’re not going to die out here. I didn’t leave you behind. It’s fine. Let’s just keep going.”

In all honesty, Steve isn’t ready to move on — his legs are still burning and throbbing — but emotionally he can’t get out of there fast enough. He checks Danny’s leg before they head out, just to ensure that the bleeding hasn’t started back up, and then hoists Danny onto his shoulders again. 

Despite Steve’s growing exhaustion they’re making good time. Steve estimates that they’re about two-thirds of a mile from the main road. He glances up the trail, trying to see how far the crest of the hill is because his everything is throbbing. The moment his eyes leave the ground, he catches his foot — because by this point his feet are dragging — on a rock, and they tumble ass over tea kettle off the trail and into the underbrush.

“Shit, Danny?” Steve is already asking before he’s gotten his bearings. He scrambles over to his partner who is clutching his leg and biting his lip to stifle the steady stream of pained noises.

Steve pries at Danny’s hands to get a better look and it’s bleeding now. A lot. Quickly, Steve shreds the remainder of his undershirt to make another tourniquet. He binds it tightly, pulling hard enough to visibly dig into Danny’s leg making him scream. Steve tamps down on his regret for having to do this and makes sure the bandage is secure. 

“Danny, I know it hurts but we have to move now. We need an ambulance,” Steve says.

Danny nods but doesn’t speak. His eyes are closed and he’s trembling from what Steve can only assume is pain. Without further ado, Steve squats, pulls Danny over his shoulders, and lifts. The adrenaline from the fall is bolstered by Steve’s fear for Danny, and it’s enough that he’s able to set out at a steady pace.

“I don’t like taking trips with you,” Danny moans quietly. “I always get hurt.”

“Oh, come on, Danny. We had a great time surfing last month,” Steve argues.

“Sunburn, jellyfish, vomiting saltwater,” Danny replies.

“I told you-” Steve pauses to readjust Danny on his back. “I told you to close your mouth if you wiped out. I’m sure it was a learning experience for you.”

“I learned I hate you,” Danny grumbles.

Steve huffs a weak laugh, but lacks the energy to rebut the statement. 

After that, Danny’s uncharacteristically quiet save for the occasional moan or invective. Steve tries to focus on the path this time, but the warm seep of Danny’s blood over Steve’s shoulder and down his side make it hard to keep calm. Danny’s losing a lot of blood at a much faster rate than he did when he was initially shot. It’s possible that the initial shot nicked an artery and that the fall opened the nick into a tear, though Steve can’t be sure. All he knows is that they have to hurry.

Steve rounds a corner, and he can see the truck about a hundred yards ahead. 

“Hey, look, Danny. There’s the truck,” Steve manages, between heaving breaths.

Steve keeps moving, listening for Danny’s reply, but none comes. “Danny, hey! Hey pal, you awake back there? I said we’re almost to the truck.”

Steve looks down at the arm he’s holding and realizes that Danny’s hand dangles limply, bobbing slightly with each footstep. Steve knew it was bad, no two ways about it. But he had focused on the hike because there wasn’t anything more he could do. But somehow, Steve feels guilty knowing that he missed Danny passing out, that he was focused on something else. Summoning a last reserve of strength, Steve picks up the pace to the truck.

They’re close and Steve has his eyes on the prize. But that distraction causes Steve to miss the hole in the road, and he steps right into it, his one hundred eighty pounds plus Danny’s one seventy, all bearing down on his left ankle. Steve lurches forward, the toe of his boot caught on the edge of the hole, and he falls, turning to his side as he goes to avoid hitting Danny’s head on the ground. 

What could have been a rather unpleasant sprain if Steve had fallen forward is instead a sickening _snap_ as Steve’s ankle is bent sideways. Danny slumps off Steve’s shoulders once they hit the ground, and Steve grits his teeth to avoid outright screaming. It’s not the first time Steve’s broken a bone and the familiar pain tells Steve exactly what’s happened. He allows himself the luxury of three deep breaths to get himself together before rolling over to check on Danny. 

He’s got a pulse but it’s fast and weak. Steve knows from experience that Danny won’t last long in that state. Hoping against hope, Steve checks his phone one more time but there’s still no service. He sits up, tightens the laces on his boot, and then stands. 

There’s no way he can carry Danny like this but with the truck so close, he can go get it and then collect Danny. It turns out that hopping isn’t particularly effective on the rocky path, and to avoid either crawling or falling again, Steve is forced to sort of hobble-hop. Each step sends bolts of pain up Steve’s leg and into his knee which feels like it might also be sprained. 

Finally, Steve reaches the Silverado and he collapses onto the seat as he opens the door. The moment he sits, his legs begin to throb and he knows that if he’s off his feet for more than a few minutes he’s going to be off them for at least an hour. He’s pushed himself hard, harder than he’s needed to since he transferred his contract to reserve duty, and broken ankle notwithstanding, he’s gonna pay the price.

The truck cranks over on the first turn of the key and Steve throws it in gear, slowly rolling the fifty feet to Danny. He pulls up alongside Danny, as close as he can to the back door, and climbs out to load him up. Of course the moment his feet hit the ground, his left leg buckles from the pain and his right throbs up into his hip, the brief respite already causing stiffness in his muscles and joints. He leans against the side of the truck for support as he hoists Danny into the cab, bit by bit. 

The minute or so that it takes to get them both in the truck and speeding away down the gravel road feels to Steve like an eternity, and medically speaking, it pretty much is. Danny’s been unconscious for at least five minutes now, and barring some unknown injury, the cause is blood loss. 

Steve knows that there’s a whole list of things that can go pear shaped with shock, but the first and foremost in his mind are brain damage and death. And Danny’s not going to die dammit. Freddie’s little girl is growing up without her daddy because Steve did a piss poor job of bringing home his partner. Steve is not going to let that happen to Grace. 

The need to hurry is at odds with the need to not wreck the truck in the middle of nowhere. Still Steve barrels down the little switch back mountain trail as fast as he can, much faster than is safe, but if they don’t hurry Steve knows that there’s not much of a point to getting back to town. He also checks his phone every time they hit another straight away, waiting for cell phone service, and after each failed attempt his desperation grows. 

Finally, after only a couple of minutes, Steve sees a single bar pop up on his phone, and he pulls over to dial out so he doesn’t drop the call. 

“Hello, please state the nature of your emergency,” the operator says.

“This is Commander Steve McGarrett with the 5-0 taskforce. I have Detective Danny Williams with me and he has a GSW to the right thigh. It’s an arterial bleed and he’s unconscious from blood loss. We’re thirty minutes east of Pupukea and I’m requesting medevac. I don’t think he’s going to make it if we have to drive in,” Steve informs her.

“Please hold a moment while I put you through to Tripler. They’re going to be sending the medevac. Have your coordinates ready.”

Steve puts the phone on speaker and opens the GPS. He rattles off the coordinates to their location and is advised to wait in place; a helicopter is already scrambled and should be to their location shortly. Steve lets his head flop back against the headrest of his seat only momentarily, before climbing into the backseat with Danny. 

The first thing he does is press his thumb hard against the still seeping wound in Danny’s thigh. The subtle rise and fall of Danny’s chest lets Steve know that Danny’s still alive, if only just, so Steve devotes all his energy to keeping the rest of Danny’s blood in him where it belongs. Part of him wants to try again to rouse Danny, but he knows that if digging his thumb into an open bullet wound didn’t wake him, a few words isn’t going to do the trick either. 

The silence in the truck is deafening. Talking is Danny’s job, Steve just has to periodically goad him to keep the narrative going. But now, Steve is almost compelled to fill the space.

“You know, Danny, I’m sorry about earlier, when I blew you off asking about Freddie. It’s not something I talk about if I can avoid it, you know? It’s one of the biggest failures of my life. Even Dad, I was halfway across the world and I couldn’t control any of it. Even if I had let Hesse go, I still think he would have killed Dad. But Freddie, man, Freddie was right there. He was shot but he was alive. I should have taken him, I should have dragged his stupid ass into the truck and made him go. I know what it’s like to lose a parent as a kid, and I knew his girlfriend was pregnant, and now his daughter is growing up without her father, and I should have done something. I could have done something, but instead I was scared, I was scared we were gonna both die there and I took the easy way out because he said to. No one was coming for us, just like no one went back for Freddie. I left him and the government disavowed him, and it didn’t have to be that way.

“I know you, Danny. I know you’d tell me I did what I could, that as bad as Freddie was shot he wasn’t going home, and maybe you’re right, but I have blamed myself every single day since then that I didn’t bring him home. And now,” Steve pauses and wipes his eyes with the back of his free hand, accidentally smearing Danny’s blood across his brow. “And now, what do I tell Grace, huh? That I failed you just like I failed Freddie? Come on, man, don’t do this, Danny. You gotta hang on, for Grace.”

In the distance, Steve can hear the dull _whump whump_ of the helo’s rotors, and he closes his eyes to regain his composure before there’s a swarm of Army medics crawling all over them. He’s not interested in explaining his PTSD to a bunch of grunts. 

To Steve, it feels like the medevac team is there before Steve is ready and also hours too late. They swarm Danny, and Steve gets out of the truck to make space, stumbling as he goes. He watches them assess Danny and stabilize his injury before moving him. But Steve feels detached, like he’s watching the proceedings on video, far away from where things are actually occurring. Even the pain in his ankle, and the rest of his body, seems distant. 

Steve finds himself abruptly yanked back to reality when a medic taps him on the shoulder. Steve can see the man, whose uniform reads Miller, say something, but he can’t make it out over the downwash from the helo. Whatever it was that Miller said Steve doesn’t care, he just shakes his head. It doesn’t matter. Steve can get himself to the hospital. 

Miller apparently has other opinions and begins to assess Steve. Too tired and achy to fight, Steve just stands there and allows it. The look on the medic’s face when he pinches Steve’s skin, tells Steve that he’s failed that test, though he already knew he was dehydrated. When Miller tries to manipulate Steve’s ankle, Steve nearly buckles at the good knee, barely catching himself on the edge of the truck bed. Miller stands, pats him on the shoulder and points up at the helo. 

Steve shakes his head and points at the truck. Miller narrows his eyes and waves at the crew member who’s still on the ground now that Danny’s been sent up in the basket. They flank him with their disappointing glares and then each take one of Steve’s arms over their shoulders, leading him to the harness on the ground that he’s apparently going to be wearing to go up whether or not he likes it. 

Too tired to fight what he can tell is a losing battle, Steve cooperates with the medics as they have him hoisted into the helo. Steve isn’t new to medevac, and once aboard, he straps himself into a passenger seat out of the way of the medics. He watches as they stick Danny again and again in search of a good vein that doesn’t just collapse due to blood loss. If it weren’t for the subtle rise and fall of Danny’s chest, Steve doesn’t know what he would do. But for now, he hangs his hat on the little blip on the monitor that proves that Danny, no matter how limp and pale he may seem, is still alive and his heart is still beating to move his ever diminishing blood.

*****

Steve, freshly changed and bathed, decked out with a boot and knee brace pending a full cast for his ankle once the swelling goes down, waits in his wheelchair with the rest of the team for the doctor to come give them an update. The last they heard was that he survived surgery and was being transferred to PACU, but the nurse didn’t have any other information.

“Steve McGarrett?” calls a nurse.

Steve waves his hand at her and then wheels himself over. “Hi, I’m Steve. Do you have information about Danny Williams?”

She smiles. “He’s awake and wants to talk to you. He’s being sort of belligerent about it.”

Steve smiles, half out of relief and half out of amusement. “Well, I hope you’re not expecting that to change once the drugs wear off,” he says following her down the corridor. 

She laughs. “We deal with a lot worse around here. I’m sure we’ll survive him. Now you, on the other hand, I hear are quite the patient.”

That startles a laugh out of Steve. “I guess that’s probably fair to say.”

The nurse badges them back into PACU and walks Steve over to a curtained area. The lighting is dim, but Steve can see that Danny is already looking less pale, likely due to the bag of blood hanging from the IV pole. 

“How many units?” he quietly asks the nurse. 

She turns and squints at the monitor, pecks a few keys, and turns back to Steve. “Looks like this is his fifth.”

Steve nods and looks back at Danny who seems to have passed back out between when he was being a pain in the ass and now. He rolls over and parks himself beside the bed and waits. 

“Thanks for not dying on me, Danny,” Steve says softly. 

Steve closes his eyes and thinks of Freddie’s smile and of the little ultrasound photo he had tucked in his jacket the day he died. Already so in love with his kid and he didn’t even know her. But not today. Today Danny didn’t die. Today Grace didn’t lose her father. Instead, today Steve can say he did his best, even if they only just barely made it out. Something about it soothes the edges of the hurt surrounding Freddie’s loss, though Steve isn’t quite sure why. 

He sniffles and wipes the tears off his cheeks. When he opens his eyes, there’s a box of tissues by the edge of the bed and the nurse is studiously staring at something on her computer monitor. 

Maybe, when Danny is doing better, he can talk to him for real about Freddie, about what happened. And for once the thought of saying it doesn’t fill him with dread.


End file.
